


Into the Woods

by reapertownusa



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-26
Updated: 2012-10-26
Packaged: 2017-11-17 01:47:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/546286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reapertownusa/pseuds/reapertownusa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every hunter knows Bigfoot isn't real, but something matching its description is killing backpackers in the Olympics. Dean hates camping for more reasons than Sam knows, but he’s desperate to distract his brother from the nightmares of Jessica’s death. Their backcountry trip becomes a struggle for survival when the hoax they're hunting proves to be dangerously real.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place early Season 1. Written for the samdean_otp mini bang on LJ. Art by the amazing quickreaver can be found here: http://quickreaver.livejournal.com/50048.html

_Southside Diner - Grand Junction, Colorado_

Sam had woken up screaming again. But nothing was wrong. No, everything was awesome.

His brother was killing himself slowly, just like his dad had been doing for the last twenty years, but Sam was on the fast track. And Dad? Dad was just plain off the tracks. Dean wanted to kick both their asses. Not that it ever mattered what he wanted.

He couldn’t do anything about Dad. Once again, he’d ditched Dean’s sorry ass without a word. He was either on the trail of something he didn’t want Dean to screw up or dead because Dean had screwed up or dying cursing the fact that Dean was going to screw up.

Despite his fears, Dean knew Dad would come back. It was naïve and stupid, but Dad always came back, always would, because he was Dad. Dad was a tough as nails bastard who would always come out on the top in the end. Or he wouldn’t.

All Dean could do was trust him and roll with the punches. If Dad sent them a case, they’d deal with it. If they came across their own case, they’d deal with that, too. Either way, it was all the same. Find the monsters and gank their ugly asses.

At least with Dad it was simple. Unlike Sam, who had always been under the delusion that Dean was a deep sleeper. Or maybe he just thought he was deaf.

Sure, Dean sometimes passed out to the point that he was dead to the world, but there was a hell of a difference between sleeping through Sam sneaking out of a room and his brother screaming bloody murder in the bed beside his. Of course he heard every last gasped breath. They hadn’t lived this long by Dean sleeping through the sound of his brother panicking.

What Sam didn’t get was that Dean hadn’t said anything because he’d heard it all before. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d laid awake listening to Dad call out Mom’s name. He’d learned young it was one of those things you didn’t talk about. What people shouted in their sleep stayed in the dark.

That was fine for Dad. Dad could take care of himself and when he couldn’t, he let Dean carry him, but Sam? He was Dean’s responsibility and he was too damn stubborn to accept help even when he was dangling off a cliff by his fingernails.

If Sam kept going like this, the guilt over Jessica’s death would eat him alive. And if it didn’t, something else would. That wasn’t happening. Not on Dean’s watch.

He gulped down the last bitter drops of his coffee and glanced over the rim of his mug towards his exhausted brother. Sam hadn’t even poked at his breakfast burrito and had to be borderline overdosing on caffeine.

But everything was just fine.

Dean flipped though the morning paper, loudly rustling the pages to try to draw Sam’s unfocused eyes back to the diner. Sam had checked out the moment he’d sat down. Probably a long time before that.

Dean was going to fix this. He’d find a hunt, but it couldn’t be just any hunt. The regular old poltergeist gigs weren’t doing jack to get Sam’s mind off the damn nightmares.

Sam thought Dean didn’t get it.

The woman Sam had loved had been torched on a ceiling and, as far as Sam knew, Dean had never loved anyone. Maybe he hadn’t, not like that, but he still knew.

He knew the smell of burning flesh, the impossible heat and the popping and sizzling. The silence where there should be screams. He knew what it felt like for the world to fall away. He knew the helplessness, the guilt of looking back and thinking he should have done something. It should have been him.

Dean damn well got it.

“Hey, are you listening?” Sam asked.

“What?”

He hadn’t noticed that Sam had checked back in and was back to tapping away at this laptop. “I said maybe we should head east. There are some reports here...sounds like there could be an active vengeful spirit in this bar in Cleveland.”

Dean folded the paper and dropped it to the table. He grabbed his fork and stabbed one of the uneaten sausage links that had been taunting him from Sam’s plate. There wasn’t anything wrong with going east, but he had a better idea.

Dean barely finished chewing before replying, “Or it could be that they’re serving alcohol in the bar. I say we head west.”

His brother glared at him. At least it was something more than Sam staring silently into the abyss. Annoyed glares Dean could work with.

“Just to argue or is there an actual reason?” Sam asked.

“Dude, we just salted and burned three corpses. We need a little variety. I’m tired of getting knocked around by spooks. I wanna kick some corporal ass for a change.”

“You mean corporeal?”

“Yeah, that, too.”

An amused smirk came to Dean’s lips. His pen circled a small article before he traded the folded newspaper for Sam’s plate. He didn’t have to ask to know that his brother wasn’t going to eat his breakfast and he couldn’t stand by and let perfectly good food go to waste.

“A chupacabra in Reno?” Sam asked. “What paper are you reading?”

Dean snatched the under appreciated newspaper back. The paper was legit, but the article wasn’t. Why couldn’t he have a dumb brother?

It didn’t matter that the chupacabra was a hoax, there was something that needed killing everywhere. Reno had the advantage of also being full of all types of other pleasant distractions and maybe what Sam needed wasn’t a hunt.

The problem was that Dean honestly didn’t know what Sam considered to be fun. As far as he could tell, locking his brother in a library minus Dean’s miniskirt stripper librarians would be Sam’s idea of a fantasy vacation. No brother of his was going to get off on textbooks.

“A beast terrifying the masses,” Dean said. “This is our kind of gig.”

“You hate Reno.”

“No I don’t.”

Sam looked up from his laptop. “Last time we left your exact words were ‘if we ever head back towards Reno shoot me’.”

“Yeah, well, I also convinced you the legal drinking age in Reno was sixteen.” Dean chuckle. “Man, you have to admit that was pretty awesome.”

“Right...Dad thought it was hilarious.”

Dean shrugged. “Okay, maybe it wasn’t one of my better ideas. I was a little drunk.”

“A little? Dean, you introduced me to the bartender as your girlfriend Samantha.”

Dean’s chuckle dissolved into throat clearing. He didn’t exactly remember it like that, but it wasn’t the sort of thing Sam would make up. Wasted or not, it had been a hell of a good time until Dad had come home two days early.

The ending might have been painful, but bringing it up was pulling in Sam’s attention just like he’d hoped. His brother stopped pointlessly clicking the keys on his computer and really looked at him. Dean could finally see the hint of a smile Sam was hiding.

“I thought Dad was going to kill you,” Sam said. “Like actually kill you.”

“He probably would’ve if he hadn’t needed me for bait to finish the hunt. I told you, Sammy, hunting saves lives.”

Dad had come back early because the thing he’d been hunting had been a hell of a lot closer than they’d thought. That was one of the countless reasons Dad had been so pissed.

He’d had every right to be. Dean had screwed up. He’d ditched his responsibilities and he could’ve easily gotten Sam killed.

When he really thought about it, he couldn’t remember why it even struck him as a good memory. But Sam was smiling too so something better than pretending to date his brother and puking all over his homicidal father’s boots must have happened.

“It was nice,” Sam said.

“Dad trying to kill me? You really were drunk.”

“Not that. Dad was a jerk.” Sam rolled his eyes at Dean’s warning glare. “Whatever, Dean. I mean, just being stupid kids doing stupid crap.” Sam’s gaze drifted down to the table, but lifted again a moment later. “Hey, you never did tell me what happened.”

“With Dad?”

“No, the hunt.”

“Oh.” Dean grimaced. Suddenly he remembered why Reno had really sucked. “Nothing happened. Dad wasted it. Forget Reno.”

Even through his complete exhaustion, Sam looked as if he wanted to push for an explanation, but Dean’s glare promised instant death if Sam didn’t drop it.

Worry again knotted Sam’s brow. “You really think he’s okay?”

Dean was tired of having this conversation. They’d been having it practically since Sam could talk and the answer was always the same.

“He’s Dad.”

“Right...”

They held each other’s gaze for a long moment. It was a silent game of chicken to see who would break first and either admit the truth or admit that they couldn’t face it.

Sam’s attention returned to his computer. Dean made a sound deep in his throat to say he hadn’t missed it before pretending to return to reading his newspaper. He had to find something for Sam, but he wasn’t going to find it in here.

“Here, I got one,” Sam said. “How about a series of unexplained deaths in the Hoh Rainforest?”

“The ‘Ho Rainforest’?” A wide grin spread across Dean’s lips and he tossed aside his worthless newspaper. “Now you’re talking. I knew you’d find me some strippers in need.”

His mind was blissfully filled with visions of gorgeous, scantily-clad women lounging on top of a bar waving palm fronds and dangling bunches of grapes. Here he’d been thinking Sam was a lost cause, but there was hope for his dopey brother yet.

“It’s a national park.”

Dean’s face fell. “In southern California?”

“Washington State. No strippers, no bikinis,” Sam replied with only a mild hint of annoyance.

Dean was obviously going to have to try harder at being a pain in the ass. Sam was being more dense than usual.

“Then what does it have?”

“Bigfoot.”

That simple statement was proof positive that his brother had officially lost his mind. “Yeah, okay,” Dean said. “Do you want to stop by the unicorn petting zoo on the way?”

“At least I’m looking for a case instead of a hookup.”

“Oh, come on. You wanna hunt for Bigfoot and you’re giving me crap about a chupacabra? Okay, so there’s no chupacabra in Reno, but at least they exist. Every hunter knows Bigfoot is nothing but a hoax.”

“I’m not saying it’s actually Bigfoot, but it’s something.” Sam turned the computer so that Dean could see the screen. “Take a look at these.”

Dean tilted his head as his brother clicked through the pictures. Some were blurry photos that could just as easily be of a hairy stripper as anything else, but others were weirdly in focus. Dean couldn’t deny that they all looked like pictures of Bigfoot, which would mean something if it wasn’t one of the most hoaxed monsters on the planet.

He hadn’t seen these specific photos before, but he’d seen plenty of others just like them and they’d all been fakes. Maybe some of these were a little more convincing, but this was Bigfoot they were talking about.

“They all look like the Bigfoot from the Patterson-Gimlin footage.”

“I know,” Sam said. “But these were all taken over the last couple of weeks and all by different people.”

“So someone found the old suit and is running around the backcountry scaring the tourists. It’s funny, but it’s not a case.”

“It’s not just the sightings. They have footprints that look legit enough that Fish and Wildlife is investigating and bodies are starting to turn up. These people were ripped apart.”

“Hoax and bear attacks.” Despite dismissing them, Dean still watched the photos click by until one caught his eye. “Hey, wait...go back to that last one.” He didn’t give a rat's ass about the Bigfoot fakes, but the young women posing for a group shot outside of a ranger station had potential. “Who’re they?”

“Some of the witnesses. They‘re environmental study majors from the local university. They have some research projects setup in the area.”

“I’m in.” Dean shoveled the last of Sam’s hash browns into his mouth before popping up out of his chair. “Let’s hit the road.”

Sam shook his head, but was convinced enough to pack up his laptop. Dean knew his brother wanted to complain about his motives. Honestly, he was hoping that Sam did. He’d been trying his damnedest lately to goad his brother into distraction, but mostly he was failing miserably.

Dean must be losing his touch. He was okay with that, just so long as it wasn’t the alternative. That he was losing his brother.

He shook off the thought. It wasn’t happening. He’d already lost Dad. He wasn’t losing Sam, too.

One way or another he was pulling his brother out of this rut and if Sam wanted to take a pseudo case chasing some dude in a monkey suit, Dean would be right there with him, laughing all the way. And as a bonus, once this was over, he’d have the biggest I told you so ever to hold over Sam’s head.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam nestled further beneath the covers as the gentle heat of the morning sun warmed his face. He fought against the pull of wakefulness, clinging to the foggy peace of the moment.

With a deep breath, he drew in Jessica’s sweetness. Her soft hair brushed against his cheek as she rested her head in the crook of his shoulder. Sam’s arm slipped around her, marveling at how perfectly her body fit against his and pulling her further into his embrace.

“Dude, get your hands off me.”

Sam raised his brow and chuckled. He rolled them over so she lay on top of him. She lightly slapped his shoulder, her laughter soothing an unease he couldn’t place.

“Sammy, I swear to God, if you touch me again I’m gonna...”

In an instant, the soft warmth was torn away. Sam bolted upright, his head glancing off the window. The car window.

Cool air rustled through his hair and the sun’s rays were filtered by dense stands of trees that flew by as Dean sped down the winding highway. Sam pulled his jacket tighter around him, glaring at Dean’s open window as he rubbed the ache from the side of his head.

“Don’t give me the damn stinky eye,” Dean said. “I know I told you to sleep, but you’re so not getting a happy on in my car. Especially not with me in it.”

“What?” Sam focused his eyes to see his own hand lying on the car seat reaching for Dean’s thigh and his brother crammed against the driver’s door to keep out of reach. Sam jerked his hand back and stuffed it under his arm. “Oh...sorry.”

“Whatever. Just let me know if you need me to pull over so you can take care of business.”

Sam glanced over to Dean, who was grinning. Rather than being annoyed, like he’d sounded, Dean looked more at ease than he had since before they’d started this trip.

“Yeah...uh, thanks,” Sam said. “But I’m okay.”

Dean shrugged and sprawled his legs back over the seat. “Suit yourself.”

Sam also settled back. Exhaustion had already seeped back into his bones. Even when he did sleep, it wasn’t as if he awoke rested. If anything, he just felt more rundown. He tipped his head back against the headrest only to jolt back up a second later when Dean slapped a map against his chest.

“You seriously gotta wake up because I think I took a wrong turn,” Dean said.

Sam sat up and blinked the last of sleep from his eyes. He pressed the crumpled map flat before he remembered where they were going. His brow furrowed as he shifted his gaze from the map that showed only one road to the endless stands of trees.

“How could you take a wrong turn?” Sam asked. “There are no turns.”

“It’s a figure of speech, dude. Obviously I missed something ‘cause the edge of civilization is a hundred miles behind us.”

“So where are we?”

Sam watched the passing road for any signs or landmarks. An old camper meandering down the other side of the two lane highway was the only sign of human life. Mostly, there was nothing but more trees casting long shadows around them and the occasional bird flittering across the road.

“Where’s it look like?” Dean asked. “We’re on the endless highway in the middle of the freakin’ enchanted forest dodging Bambis.”

Sam leaned forward in his seat and pointed to the right. “There. Up ahead.”

Dean eased off the gas as he searched for where Sam was telling him to go. As they rounded the corner a small, unpaved parking lot came into view. Dean turned in and shut off the gas. For a long moment he sat there staring at the rustic building in front of them.

“Ranger station?” Dean asked.

Sam shook his head.

“Okay…I give,” Dean said. “What is it? The world’s tiniest motel?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “It’s the general store. We’re just grabbing supplies before heading out to the campground.”

“And where’s the motel?”

“What motel?” Sam asked.

“The one with the cozy bed with magic fingers and the bar loaded with the hot chicks that we’re gonna hole up in tonight.” Dean glanced at his watch before scanning the forest. “Dude, we’re already losing light. We can’t head out to the campground now.”

“You want to setup the tent in the dark?”

By the look on Dean’s face, Sam wasn’t even sure he was speaking English. Dean raised his brow as if he was waiting for the punch line.

“Come again?” Dean rolled up his window before turning in his seat to glare at Sam. “When the hell were you planning on telling me there’s no motel?”

“I thought we could camp.”

“And I thought you were my brother.”

“Dean, what’s the problem?” The agitated uncertainty on Dean’s face didn’t look all that far off from when Sam had told him he had to get on a demon-possessed airplane. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of camping, too.”

“I’m not afraid,” Dean spat. “I just don’t camp.”

“Since when?”

“Since...ever.”

“I thought you just didn’t like camping with Wendigos.”

“News flash, Sammy - no one likes camping with Wendigos. But Wendigos or no Wendigos, I don’t camp. Not on purpose.”

Sam didn’t care about Bigfoot, or whatever this actually was. He wasn’t even all that interested in hunting for anything that wasn’t Dad’s trail. But the thing was, Dean was right.

They had no leads on Dad and the man was a master at hiding his trail, even from them. There would be no finding him until he wanted to be found. And it was killing Dean.

Dean could spout his Dad knows best crap until he was blue in the face, but Sam didn’t buy it for one second. He knew his brother and he knew how much Dad meant to him. Sam didn’t know why Dad had left Dean behind, but he knew his brother was blaming himself for Dad going missing.

If Sam couldn’t find Dad, the least he could do was find an off the wall hunt to keep Dean occupied. Camping sounded like a nice distraction on top of that because it wasn’t something Dad had ever been big on, but he should’ve known that meant Dean wasn’t either.

“Have you ever even camped?” Sam asked. “And I don’t mean tracking through the woods and sleeping in those stupid survival shelters.”

“Living out of a tent is something you do when you got nowhere else to go. Dad worked his ass off to make sure we had a roof over our heads.”

Dean’s tone and gestures were adamant so Sam tried his best to bite his tongue. He didn’t know what Dean’s drama was about sleeping in a tent, but he knew one thing, and that was that Dad’s version of working his ass off was signing up for fake credit cards and getting his son a fake ID as soon as possible so he could help hustle pool.

Dean released an agitated sigh before relaxing back into his seat. “What kind of moron pays to sleep on the ground in the woods anyway?”

“This thing is attacking backcountry campers,” Sam said. “The only way we’re going to learn anything is by talking to the campers.”

“I got no problem talking to campers or spending all damn day hiking through the woods. It’s just the camping part of camping I got a problem with.”

“Okay, great, but it’s too far to drive back and forth between the closest lodge,” Sam said.

“Looks like it’s Bigfoot’s lucky day.”

“You just want to drop the case?”

Dean slammed his fist against the steering wheel. “It’s not a case. Dude, it’s Bigfoot! I thought it would be good for a laugh, but it’s not funny anymore.”

Dean might not be buying the Bigfoot crap, but it wasn’t the Bigfoot photos that had drawn him out here. Sam nodded out the window behind Dean. His brother narrowed his eyes before shooting a look over his shoulder. Then he turned around in his seat so he could look some more.

Dean only turned back around after the group of girls disappeared into the general store. “Only if they’re staying at the campground.”

Without another word, Dean was out of the car. Sam followed his brother up the creaky wooden steps and into the store. It was cozy, literally crammed to the rafters with everything from tourist shot glasses to hardcore survival gear.

Dean had already left his side to discuss bug sprays with two girls who kept giggling to each other. They were probably entomology majors. Sam did have to admit that no one had ever used bug spray quite like his brother had, but he was pretty sure that Dean had never used the stuff for anything other than keeping literal swarms of insects at bay.

He kept half an ear to the lame conversation so he knew what story Dean was feeding the girls and how he was going to have to play along. Apparently, they were with Fish and Wildlife today.

A few minutes later, Dean was back at his side, grinning like an idiot. “So I was talking to Heather and Mindy and...what is that crap?”

“Trail mix and granola.” Sam turned around to look at Dean whose arms were already full. “You’re getting candy, beer and...bug spray? Dean, we could be out there for days.”

“That’s why I’m stocking up. Besides, we’re not going to be out there that long. We don’t even have a tent and it’ll only take me a couple of hours to prove that you’re an idiot. These are for the road,” he added, as he reached past Sam and grabbed some individually wrapped fake pies.

“I got a tent.”

Sam motioned toward the dusty, orange vinyl bag he’d propped up against the snack shelf. The tag said it was a two person backpacking tent and it was probably a piece of junk, but it had a rain fly and would hold up for at least a couple of days.

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “We don’t need a tent, Sam.”

“This place is actually a rainforest,” Sam said as he slung the tent’s bag over his shoulder. “You really want to sleep under the stars?”

“I wanna sleep in a bed, but I’ll settle for my car.”

“The sites in the area of the attacks are walk-ins,” Sam said.

“Man, come on,” Dean grumbled. “I’m not going in without my car.”

“Just remember the girls.”

Dean’s hands were too full to hit him, but he shoved his shoulder hard into Sam’s. “Shut up...and grab me another bag of marshmallows.”

~~~

_Hoh Rain Forest – Olympic National Park - Washington_

Dean had reluctantly left his baby parked at the trailhead to make the short hike into the group of campsites. It was close enough that they could easily head on back to the car to sleep so he didn’t know why Sam was obsessed with sleeping on the ground in a tent that was probably moth-eaten on top of everything else. Sure, the attacks were happening at the sites, but they’d be able to hear the screaming from the parking lot.

At this point, he didn’t care what his brother was thinking because Sam was getting way too much amusement out of this whole thing. Dean struggled to remind himself that finding fun for Sam was the whole reason he’d come out here, while Sam was finding his distraction in laughing at him.

“Does this site have a better ‘tactical advantage’?” Sam mocked.

“Laugh it up,” Dean shot back. “You’ll be thanking me when you’re still alive in the morning. That last site was totally indefensible.”

“’Indefensible’?” Sam’s amusement faded as he began to watch Dean far too closely. “You really did go camping with Dad, didn’t you?”

Dean ignored his brother’s lingering look and paced Sam’s newest site selection. It was as good as it was going to get.

He admitted defeat and walked over to perch on top of the mossy, wooden picnic table. The moisture would soak into his jeans, but it he already felt as if he was wet down to his boxers anyway.

Dean dropped his duffel bag and took a deep breath of the crisp air, laced with the earthy scent of wood smoke. A creek babbled in the distance and birds were singing their evening songs high in the massive trees, which were draped with carpets of lush, green moss and rocked gently in the breeze.

It wasn't the serenity of nature that struck Dean. It was the distant voices of other campers. Kids were laughing, dads chopped wood and pots clanked while moms started work on dinner.

That was Sam’s obsession with this whole camping crap. People camped. This was normal.

His brother took a seat on the picnic table’s bench beside Dean’s boots and reached up to hand him a beer. “You have to admit it’s beautiful.”

Dean accepted the peace offering and shrugged while looking out into the darkening expanse of forest. It was nice enough during the day, but the game always changed come nightfall.

“Right until something jumps out and bites you in the ass.”

“That happens wherever we go,” Sam said.

“Why tempt fate?”

“It’s kind of what we do.”

“Yeah, okay.” Dean twisted off the cap to his beer and flicked it into the fire pit. “But remind me what exactly we’re doing here besides getting ready to freeze our asses off in a tent that you’re setting up by yourself?”

With a jacket, it wasn’t all that cold yet, but the cloud filtered sun had already dipped behind the large trees. The slight nip in the early spring air promised that it was going to get chilly fast. And pitch dark.

It wasn’t as if Dean was afraid of the dark, not by a long shot, but he knew what was out there. Bigfoot wasn’t mauling campers, but something was and they had to be ready for it. He hadn’t gone along with this stupid hunt just to let his little brother get torn to shreds.

“We’re staking out the area,” Sam said. “If there aren’t any attacks tonight, we’ll start interviewing people tomorrow and see what evidence turns up.”

“Wouldn’t evidence be back in civilization at the coroner’s office?”

“I read all the coroner’s reports online,” Sam said.

“Yeah, about that, can you even go a day without logging into that thing?”

“My laptop? Uh yeah, as much as you can go a day without caressing that stupid car.”

Luckily for Sam, by the time the words had left his mouth, he’d left the picnic table to start screwing around with the tent. Dean slid down onto the bench seat and leaned back, getting ready for a show while he glared daggers at Sam’s back.

“What I said about you living to see tomorrow...I lied. Don’t you ever talk crap about my baby.”

Sam shook the tent bag until the pieces finally fell from the tight sack and landed in a jumble onto the compacted earth of the tent pad. He pushed them around for a minute before shaking the empty bag again like he expected more pieces to magically fall out. He shoved his arm in to feel around inside the bag before dropping it and looking back to Dean.

“I just don’t think it’s healthy to be that obsessed with a hunk of steel on wheels.”

“Last warning. And, dude, it’s the American dream.”

“Dean, nothing about our lives fits the American dream.”

“Sure it does...”

Sam knelt down beside the pieces, sorted them all into something he seemed to think was a logical order and began constructing the frame. Dean leaned back to stare into the treetops, listening to the crackling of the nearby fires.

When Dean looked back to his brother, he tilted his head. “Are you building a tent or a boat?”

“They didn’t have the box anymore and there aren’t any instructions in the bag. How am I supposed to know what it looks like?”

Dean snickered as his academic whiz of a brother stared dumbly at the unpacked pieces of the tent. It was only a few minutes before Sam looked ready to take a shotgun to the thing. Dean would be more than happy to get one out of the trunk for him.

“You could help,” Sam grumbled.

“I could, but then it wouldn’t be half as funny.” Dean made a show of taking another long swig from his beer, but Sam looked as much helpless as annoyed. “Oh, come on. If you’re gonna freakin’ pout about it...”

Dean shoved off the picnic table and joined Sam’s side, but only because it was going to actually get dark before Sam managed to stick the A-slot into the B-slot.

“Dude, it’s upside down and backwards and...probably inside out.” Dean pulled out the wrongly-placed pieces of the giant dome Sam was trying to construct and started to re-assemble them. He pointed to the pile of Sam’s unused pieces. “Grab me those short ones.”

Sam’s look was indignant as he snatched them and handed them to Dean. “You couldn’t have mentioned that you knew how it went together earlier?”

“There’s no television. Someone’s gotta entertain me.” Dean snapped his fingers at the orange vinyl. “Help me pull the rain cover on.”

When they were finished Dean stepped back, brushed the moist dirt from his knees and crossed his arms over his chest as he stared down at the micro-tent. He glanced to the side when he felt his brother’s shoulder brush his. Sam stood beside him also contemplating the sorry excuse for sleeping quarters.

“Can we go sleep in the car now?” Dean asked.

Sam’s expression remained stubbornly set. “No.”

“Fine. But if you get all with the happy moans again I’m gonna feed you to Bigfoot.”

“Ditto.”

“Whatever.” Dean slumped back down onto the picnic table. “So you gonna make me a fire so we can roast some marshmallows or what?”


	3. Chapter 3

Sam had risen long before the sun had tried and failed to fight its way through the thick, grey clouds. The heavily filtered morning light wasn’t even enough to dissipate the fog that hung high above in the tops of the trees. It wasn’t raining but it looked like it could start at any moment. He pulled the collar of his jacket tighter around his neck.

Rain or no rain, the air was saturated. His jeans, his hair, and even the tent that his brother was still sprawled out inside of, just felt wet. At least it was something different. The weird sensation of feeling so moist without actually being wet was just one more thing to pull his focus from the reason he had gotten up so early.

It was one thing to hide nightmares from Dean when his deep-sleeping brother was a bed over or when there was the distractions of the road and the rumbling of the Impala’s engine to disguise subtle sounds. It was a completely different thing when Dean was lying on top of him.

Here, there was just the wind, creaking of the trees and water running over rocks in the nearby stream. While they were out of sight, he knew there were other campers not far off that were probably already on edge without listening to him call out in the darkness.

His brother hadn’t noticed him leaving the tent, at least not consciously. Dean had mumbled some drowsy comment about making sure the fire was out, but his eyes had never opened. It was probably a good thing considering that he had seen Dean hide a knife under his makeshift pillow and knew the gun was still tucked at his side. The more time he spent around his brother, the more skeptical he was that Dean was as at ease about this lifestyle as he claimed to be.

Sam sat on the picnic table to quietly contemplate everything. The problem was that he couldn’t decide whether he was trying to remember or forget. Looking at the stunning wilderness surrounding him in the still morning, it was hard to not think about how much Jess would have loved it.

He was pulled from his thoughts of the imaginary day they’d never have when he heard a rustling. Soon after, cursing came from inside the tent that wasn’t tall enough to sit up in. Dean grumbled as he unzipped the door and crawled out.

There was concern in his still sleepy eyes before Dean saw him. Apparently appeased that Sam was alive, Dean went on to griping.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.” Dean stiffly stood, stretching his arms over his head before running a hand over his rumpled hair. “Two person tent my ass. A man should never have to sleep that close to his brother.”

“At least you didn’t have to bend your knees or have someone kicking you in the ribs all night.”

“That was my ribs your bony damn knees were bent into and don’t you even try to put this on me. This was your stupid ass plan and, for the record, I did have to smell you.”

“You’re a little ripe yourself there, Dean.”

“No problem. I’ll just go take a shower...oh wait. There’s no freakin’ running water!”

Sam rolled his eyes. He knew Dean couldn’t care less about running water. Half the places they'd grown up in had barely had running water and Dean had never complained then.

“And you say I’m the girl. Go jump in the river.”

“You go jump in the river,” Dean said. “Speaking of girls, why didn’t I get to share a tent with one?”

“Because you really do reek. There are bathrooms here,” Sam added as he watched Dean turn towards a tree.

“Those aren’t bathrooms. I’m not gonna hike to piss in some rank hole in the ground when there’s a perfectly nice tree right here. Go find me some coffee.”

Sam turned back towards his brother when he heard him zip up. “There is no coffee, Dean.”

“That other campground down the road had motor homes.”

“So?”

Dean crouched in to the tent to grab his jacket. “So let’s go interview them.”

“So you can get free coffee?”

“And breakfast.”

“There haven’t been any attacks in that area,” Sam said. “We’re not going to raid the motor home of some poor campers who wouldn’t even know anything about the case.”

“Screw the case. I want breakfast.”

“We brought breakfast,” Sam reminded him as he pulled the granola from his bag.

Dean’s face twisted in disgust. “That’s not even food. I’d take K-rations over that flake-shaped cardboard any day.”

“We don’t have any rations because you bought candy.”

“Damn straight. I’m not sharing it with you either and you can get your own damn beer.”

Dean crawled back into the tent. Sam rolled his eyes at the dirty seat of Dean’s worn jeans that squirmed in the tent’s doorway while he dug through his duffle. Dean backed out with a bottle of beer in one hand and a bag of Snickers in the other.

Dean cracked his neck and stomped over to settle on the picnic table facing away from him. Sam wasn’t sure how many candy bars Dean had gone through before his brother looked over his shoulder at him, but he was pretty sure that Dean had already finished the beer.

“So is my BO why you snuck out of the tent at the butt crack of midnight?”

Sam sighed. He thought he was going to be able to avoid this conversation. “We didn’t go to bed until after midnight and I didn’t get up until morning.”

“It’s barely morning now,” Dean yawned.

Sam glanced at his watch. “It’s 8:30.”

“My point exactly. So what do you say we...”

Dean fell silent at the sound of approaching footsteps. Sam nodded as his brother shot him a look to confirm that he’d heard it, too. Someone was approaching their site. He shook his head when he saw his brother reaching behind his back for his gun.

Their site might be set apart from the rest, but there was no reason one of the other campers wouldn’t wander this way on a morning hike. He saw his brother’s tensed shoulders relax when an aging park ranger came into view. Dean shoved his empty beer bottle into the Snicker’s bag and set it aside on the bench.

The older man gave them a warm smile and a wave as he approached. “Good morning, boys.”

“Morning, ranger,” Dean said.

His tone was casual as he hopped off the table with no sign that a moment ago, he had been ready to open fire.

“Are you boys planning on heading out further into the backcountry?”

“Yes, sir. Is there a problem?”

“I just want to make you aware that we’ve had some attacks in this area of the park. Nothing to be alarmed about, but we’re asking everyone to stay alert and take proper precautions.”

“Precautions against what?” Sam asked.

“Some large predatory animal. We’re not exactly sure on the species yet. Could be a cougar or a grizz, but either way just make noise as you’re hiking and be careful not to sneak up on anything. You’ll be just fine.”

“I thought there weren’t any records of grizzly bears existing in this area,” Sam said.

The ranger nodded as he scratched his beard. “That’s right, and we’re not sure about this, but one may have wandered in. They get real hungry this time of year coming out of hibernation. They tend to avoid humans and aren’t typically a threat, but keep alert just to be safe. How long are you boys planning on staying out, anyway?”

“We’re just on a short hunt,” Dean said.

Sam jabbed him in the side with his elbow. At Dean’s confused look, Sam nodded towards the ranger. It didn’t help. Dean remained oblivious.

The ranger looked questioningly between them, but his tone was still polite. “You boys do realize there’s no hunting allowed within the park boundaries?”

Dean glanced to Sam with an innocent shrug. Of course Dean hadn’t actually bothered to listen to anything he’d told him about the park rules.

“Yeah...of course,” Dean said. “We’re just hunting for Bigfoot.”

“Ah, I see.” The ranger chuckled. “You’re more of them.”

“More of who?” Sam asked before he had a chance to smack Dean.

“We’ve been inundated with Bigfoot hunters ever since the reports got out.”

“What about you?” Dean asked. “Seen any signs of Bigfoot?”

Even Sam couldn’t tell whether Dean’s question was sincere or sarcastic. The ranger smiled before his gaze moved past them into the woods that surrounded them.

“All my life I’ve lived here and I’ve never seen anything of the sort.” The man shrugged as he focused back on Dean. “But just between you me, there’s a lot of isolated terrain out here and very few people to see it. Just about anything could be living out in those mountains.”

~~~

A morning of interviewing campers had gotten Dean a cup of coffee, a couple of fried eggs, three strips of bacon and five phone numbers. All in all, not bad, but they’d come up with a heaping load of nothing as far as information on this supposed hunt of Sam’s.

They'd gotten everything from people telling them that they were total whackos to telling them that Bigfoot was an alien in disguise. Sam had just managed to pull him out before the burly man in a pink Hawaiian shirt had taken serious offense to Dean’s questioning of what kind of dumb ass alien would choose a giant ape as a cover ID.

Sam had wanted to pack up the tent and head out into the backcountry to check on some of the backpackers. Dean had just wanted to hit the road.

They’d compromised. Sort of. Or maybe Dean had lost three rounds of Rock, Paper, Scissors and then bitched about it until Sam had caved and agreed to just make it a day hike. It would be just long enough to finally prove how gullible Sam was.

Now they were standing in the middle of the woods staring at a bunch of giant trees that all looked the same.

“You’re lost,” Sam said.

“Am not. We’re going…” Dean pointed straight ahead. “This way.”

“Is that north?”

“How the hell should I know? I haven’t seen the sun for days and there’s moss on every side of the trees here. I think it’s even growing in your hair.”

Sam didn’t respond, just glared as Dean unwrapped another candy bar. He’d offered Sam some only to get a lecture on the evils of soybeans. Dean sloppily shoved the wrapper into his pocket, which was too full to hold it. The wrapper fluttered to the ground.

“This is a national park, Dean, you think you could maybe keep your candy wrappers in your pocket?”

“Okay, Ranger Rick…”

Dean wasn’t sure if Sam was just pissed about not getting his way or if the lack of sleep was finally catching up with his brother. Either way, Dean was half tempted to give Sam the fight he was looking for.

He glanced at Sam who was wearing a chastising face, which would’ve made Dad proud, while waving around the stupid wrapper. No way in hell all that impatience was about accidental littering. Dean snatched the wrapper back and made a show of burying it deep in his jacket pocket.

“Can we talk about it now?” Dean asked, turning around to fully face his brother. “And if you say ‘about what?’, so help me, Sammy, I’m gonna slug you.”

“It’s Sam and there’s nothing to talk about, Dean. I’m—”

“’Fine’ is also a slugging offense,” Dean warned.

“So says the king of ‘fine’.”

“Yeah, whatever, just means I know what kind of crap qualifies for fine,” Dean replied around a mouthful of chocolate. “You don’t think I can’t see what’s happening?”

“Nothing’s happening and don’t you think you’ve had enough?” Sam asked with a nod towards the candy bar. “You’ve basically had nothing but sugar and beer since we got out here yesterday.”

“So? It’s not my fault there aren’t any diners out here.”

“Is this how you ate while I was gone?”

“This is how I’ve eaten since...” The words since Mom were on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed them down. “Nothing’s changed.”

Nothing had changed except for everything. It didn’t matter. Dean was going to put this sorry family back together if it was the last thing he did.

“All that studying and lettuce just rotted your brain,” Dean continued. “You know, maybe if you’d stuck around you could've taught me the value of a balanced diet.”

“I’m sorry.”

Dean growled, turning his back and walking away. “Oh, don’t start that.”

“Start what?” Sam asked.

“You know what!” Dean spun back around. “Apologizing for crap you’re not even sorry for.”

“Dean, I am sorry.”

“Yeah, I know. You’re sorry Jess died, which wasn’t your damn fault, and you’re sorry Dad’s missing, which also isn’t your fault.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“Nothing! Everything.” Dean scrubbed his hand over his face. “I don’t know. I’m just worried about you, man. Like why the hell are we even out here?”

Sam stuffed his hands in his hoodie’s pockets and stared at him. His expression was unreadable, but the tension was clear in his shoulders.

“What?” Dean asked.

“What do you want me to be sorry for?”

“I don’t want you to be sorry for anything that you’re sorry for because none of it was your fault. That’s the whole damn point.”

“You’re still mad I left at all.”

Dean threw his hand up, kicking at a rock stuck in the muck of the trail. “I’m not mad. I’m not,” Dean insisted when Sam remained silent. “Just drop it.”

“I needed to live my own life. I needed to get away from Dad, but it was never about you, Dean.”

Dean laughed dryly, nodding his head as he stared at his scuffed up boots. “Yeah. I noticed. That’s just...well, you got your wish. Dad’s a non-issue.”

“I never wanted this,” Sam said.

“I know, Sam.” Dean chewed on his lip before waving Sam off. “Just forget it.”

“Dean...”

“I said forget it!”

Sam sighed. He stepped away, pacing the trail before stopping back beside Dean. He motioned to the path ahead. “We’re at the trail fork. I think the last attack was around this area.”

“Super. So we’re looking for some giant...what the hell?”

“What?”

Dean nodded to a set of large, recently made tracks that were deeply embedded in the mud at the side of the trail. Sam crouched down and examined them before looking back up at him.

“Dean, these are real.”

“Did you forget everything we learned while you were away? They don’t even look real. They’re...big.”

“Look at the weight distribution pattern at the ball of the foot and the way the...”

“See, that’s just what I mean," Dean said. "You learned all this stuff that’s just a bunch of crap. It all makes sense in a book but out here in the real world you try following those theories and you end up running after imaginary monsters. Dad taught us everything we needed to know about tracking. Rule number one, if you find a Bigfoot print – it’s freakin’ bogus! If we follow these tracks were gonna end up in some kid’s tent.”

“Only one way to find out,” Sam said before continuing down the trail.

“Dude, this is nuts...you get that we’re wandering around the woods looking for Bigfoot, right? Sam?” His brother didn’t even look back. “Man, I don’t believe this! You’re gonna owe me so much pie,” Dean growled as he jogged to catch up.

They didn’t make it much further through the dense forest before the sound of someone else pushing through the brush hit Dean’s ears. His hand shot up, indicating for Sam to stop where he was. They stood frozen as Dean listened, pointing in the direction of the cracking limbs.

Sam nodded and followed closely behind him as he moved towards a clearing. Dean didn’t even bother reaching for his gun as they approached the edge of the trees. That was until the stream came into view.

Dean jerked to a stop and his jaw sagged in disbelief. “Holy crap.”

“What?” Sam whispered anxiously as he came up behind Dean.

Bigfoot was kneeling beside the stream drinking. It wasn’t some dude in a monkey suit knocking back a beer. It was a giant gorilla thing lapping up water. Dean stared for another half second before pulling his gun, switching off the safety and leveling the pistol at the target.

He’d seen enough, but just as his finger was about to squeeze the trigger, a hand reached around from behind him and grabbed his wrist. Dean instinctively swung around, ready to take on the new target only to realize that it was his stupid little brother.

“What the hell?” Dean hissed at him. “Don’t you ever grab my gun.” He smacked Sam on the back of his head. “You pull crap like that and I’m gonna end up shooting you.”

“Just wait,” Sam urged.

With a frustrated sigh Dean glared at his brother who had officially lost his mind. “Wait for what? I got a clear shot.”

“We don’t know what it is.”

“Yeah, we do, Sam. It’s Bigfoot.”

“I know, I mean...this could just be an endangered species.”

“Seriously?” Dean whispered back. “What are you freakin’ Jane Goodall now? Dude, it’s a monster.”

“It could be defending its territory.”

“Oh hell, in that case let’s let it eat all the campers it wants.”

“We don’t even know if this is what’s killing them,” Sam said. “The ranger could be right about the grizzly. You’re the one who said it couldn’t be Bigfoot.”

“That was before I was staring at him! Sightings, tracks and...oh, monster. I think it’s pretty damn straight forward. We’re hunters. Making monsters endangered species is pretty much what we do.”

The hushed argument came to a quick end when the giant at the stream’s edge reared up to its full height. The sheer size and ease of movement only confirmed that this wasn't a human in a costume. Even from where they hunkered down in the brush, Dean could see the bulging muscles rippling beneath the shaggy fur.

“Damn, it’s even taller than you, Sasquatch,” Dean said.

He only caught a moment of Sam's glare before the beast’s nostrils flared. It swung its head, eyes honing in on them from beneath its massive brow. It let loose a roar forceful enough that Dean could feel the rumble reverberate in his chest. Dean got to his feet, taking a step back, keeping himself between Sam and the monster as its sharpened teeth snapped in their direction.

“Can I shoot it now?”

Dean's tone was thick with sarcasm, his gun already aimed. He got off two rapid shots as Bigfoot charged towards them. At least one of the bullets solidly hit the thing, but the monster only howled and kept right on coming, closing ground fast.

Dean slapped Sam’s shoulder, silently telling him to run. He let his brother take up the lead, firing one more shot before hauling ass off the trail and into the dense vegetation.


	4. Chapter 4

Stinging nettles and the slap of twigs whipping past him stung Dean’s skin as he followed after Sam, but the bigger problem was that they didn’t get twenty feet off trail before they had to clamber over giant fallen logs and the forest closed in so tight that they’d needed a machete to pretend to make decent progress.

The crashing sounds coming up fast behind them said that Bigfoot wasn’t having the same problems.

“I’m gonna lead it the other way,” Dean shouted to Sam.

“What?” Sam grabbed Dean’s arm before he could take off. “Why?”

“So you can shoot it in the back, genius.” Dean shoved Sam’s hand off him. “You really are rusty, aren’t you?”

Sam made a show of arming his gun as Dean headed back the way they’d come, making as much noise as possible, not that it was hard. There was no way to move quietly with the snapping of the fallen limbs and sticks shed from the ancient trees above.

He headed up the trail, pushing through carpets of moss and made sure the thing was on his tail before ducking back into the vegetation. With his gun still clutched in his hand, he held his arms over his face and busted through the brush until he crashed into a stand of monster trees. They were spaced far apart, but the canopy was so dense it blocked out the sun and left the ground beneath free of understory.

It would give Sam the clear shot he needed if the kid remembered how to hit a moving target. It was a really good plan except that he’d underestimated how much ground Bigfoot’s giant ass legs could cover.

He should’ve thought about how easy it had been for Sam to lap him when his brother had hit his growth spurt, but before his muscles had filled in. Unlike Sam, having bulky muscles wasn’t slowing this thing down.

“Anytime now, Sam!” Dean shouted.

He shot a look over his shoulder and in the next moment was flying towards the ground when his boot caught on a protruding root. Dean grunted as he hit the dirt hard. He rolled onto his back, curling defensively in preparation for Bigfoot’s attack.

Several shots rang out first, every one hitting their target, but Bigfoot didn’t fall. Instead, it turned around on Sam. Dean grabbed his gun and scrambled to his feet, panic gripping his chest as he saw his brother go down.

Dean hadn’t covered half the distance before Sam cried out. The ground beneath him was already staining red as the thing tore into him.

“Sam!” Dean yelled as he fired every last shot he had just to get the thing off his brother.

He pulled the knife from his boot when Bigfoot left Sam and came back at him. He dodged, swiping with the knife, not caring that the weapon wasn’t large enough to penetrate through the large barrel chest and into the thing’s heart. All Dean could see was that Sam was down and he wasn’t getting back up.

Bigfoot swiped back, dirty claws tearing through the thick layers of fabric to slice into his side. Dean gritted his teeth and got his own strike in. He only managed a shallow cut, but it was enough to tell him everything he needed to know.

The torn skin sizzled where the silver blade had sliced it.

He’d brought silver bullets, but not enough that he’d loaded the gun with them by default. His hand went to his pocket to check that they were still there. He only needed to buy a second to load them.

Dean lunged forward to jam the knife into the mammoth chest as it loomed over him. The thrust cut through the thick layer of musty fur and finally found muscle before the clawed hand dug into Dean's shoulder and threw him back against a tree.

He shook his head and forced his eyes to focus. He remained crouching to feign being more stunned than he was and to buy the time he needed to load his pistol. Once the silver was in, he bound to his feet and ran to lure the thing far enough away from his brother that it couldn’t turn back on him if this didn’t work.

Dean dodged into the brush. The ground there was deceptive, looking flat when it was really piles of forest debris concealing low points. Dean guessed wrong and his right boot went through a pile of limbs to stick in a mucky mess of pooled water and thick mud.

He’d gone far enough anyway. He waited until it was nearly on top of him then fired a shot into its heart. He flinched as the shifter collapsed towards him, compacting the pile that held his foot trapped.

“Damn it!” Dean pushed at the bulk of dead weight before looking back towards his brother. “Sam!”

Dean could only barely see Sam from where he was trapped. All he could make out was the lines of his brother's body. It was enough to see that even as Dean called for him at the top of his lungs, Sam lay still.

“Sammy!”

Dean pulled his knife out of the shifter then grunted as he used all his remaining strength to roll aside the heavy body. He dug out the debris that blocked him from seeing what he was really caught on.

It was a small, fallen tree that lay over the deep, thick mud that hugged his boot like quicksand. The log was trapped under heavier debris that was out of his reach and he couldn’t push his foot back against the suction of the mud that only gripped harder when he struggled.

He plunged his hands into the cold muck that smelled strongly of decay, feeling for his bootlaces and untying them. The spot of mud was small enough that he was able to sit on the edge of solid ground. Dean gritted his teeth as he jerked his aching ankle free of the stuck boot with a wet slurp.

His wool sock came out coated in the nearly black mud. He cursed beneath his breath as he reached back in for his boot, which he was able to wiggle free without his weight pressing it down. He didn’t bother to put it back on before moving as quickly as he could back to Sam, ignoring his ankle’s screaming protests.

The heavy boot slipped from his muck covered fingers as he stood over his brother, whose shredded jeans were soaked in dark crimson. Dean dropped to the dirt at Sam’s side futilely trying to scrub the sticky mud from his hands onto his wet jeans.

He pulled Sam up against him, finally letting himself breathe as Sam groaned into his shoulder. Dean gripped tightly before laying him back down so he could get a look at the damage.

There was a nasty lump forming at the side of his head that had blood seeping down his temple. Dean grimaced before moving his attention to Sam’s mangled leg. He flicked out his knife and cut away the shredded denim, revealing deep gashes torn into the skin.

Dean fought to focus though the panic that crept up in the back of his mind. This was it. This was exactly how Dad had known he would screw up. It was Dean, not the memories of Jess, that was going to get Sam killed.

He only considered it a second before he shrugged out of his jacket and stripped off his overshirt. He shifted Sam’s position so that his brother’s wounded leg was elevated on a large tree root.

Sam’s eyes fluttered open. They were glassy as he looked up at him. “Dean?”

“I got you, Sammy, just hold on.”

Dean pressed his shirt against the lacerations. Sam moaned and Dean mumbled an apology for far more than the immediate pain.

“What’re doing?” Sam asked.

“What’s it look I’m doing? Saving your ass.”

“Dean, you gotta get out of here.”

A laugh sputtered from Dean’s lips. “Yeah, sure. I’ve been looking for an excuse to dump your sorry ass.”

“I’m serious. I’m not walking out of here and if that thing come back...”

“I took care of it.” Dean repositioned his hands to make the pressure over the worst of the gashes more even. “You walked in. You’re walking out.”

“You gotta go for help. It’s going to get dark...”

“And you’re not gonna be out here alone.”

Dean clenched his jaw as he watched the war of pain and concern in his brother’s eyes. Sam was putting on a damn good show, but he was scared and there was nothing that could make Dean walk away from him now.

“Dean, you can’t carry me out.”

“I can do whatever the hell I want. Will you just shut up already?”

“The cuts are too deep. You’re not even gonna be able to stop the bleeding.”

“It’s already slowing down, you big baby. Now quit your damn bitching and let me take car of this.”

Dean gritted his teeth when Sam looked away and shivered. His brother’s blood had already soaked through the shirt to coat Dean’s grungy hands. There was no way Sam was walking out of here.

~~~

Jessica’s hand brushed over his cheek, pushing his wet bangs aside. Sam leaned into the warmth of her lingering touch. Her soft lips ghosted his forehead with a kiss. He wanted to pull her closer, but his arms felt too heavy.

“Where’d you go?” he asked.

“I didn’t go anywhere. I told you, Sammy, I’m not leaving you.”

Sam jerked awake. His eyes flashed open to see Dean crouched beside him. His brother’s hand rested on his forehead, only pulling away when Sam sent him a confused look. He furrowed his brow, trying to remember where he was. The answer came in a sharp wave of pain when he tried to shift his leg. He shivered at the cool air that had settled over him.

“I’m working on the fire,” Dean said. “It would just help if there was anything here with less than a hundred percent moisture content.”

Dean squeezed Sam’s shoulder before standing. He grumbled and tossed aside a moss-coated branch that in another climate would have made perfect tinder. Sam’s eyes focused enough through the haze of pain to see that his brother was stalking around the brush trying to gather material to burn.

“Why’re we still here?” Sam asked, not entirely sure where here was.

“’Cause you need to go on a diet.”

Sam slowly realized they weren’t in the same patch of forest he’d lost consciousness in. The creek was louder and he could see the sky above.

“You carried me.”

Dean rubbed his shoulder. “Not far. I would’ve had better luck hauling around the real Sasquatch’s ass. You’re too damn heavy.”

But Sam knew that wasn’t true. Dean had carried him before. He’d even seen Dean carry Dad. He watched Dean move, noting the heavy limp and the way he clutched his side as he paced.

“You okay?” Sam asked.

Dean looked surprised by the question and brushed it off. “Fine. How’s the leg?”

“Fine,” Sam mimicked.

Dean glared before returning to his firewood hunt. Sam watched as he leaned back against the tree Dean had propped him up against. He should help, but even slight movements left him lightheaded. His limbs felt like lead weights and his leg felt as if it was on fire.

He glanced down at his leg. It looked like it was wrapped in bandages, but they hadn’t brought any supplies with them. It took a moment for his eyes to focus well enough to see that it was Dean’s shredded overshirt meticulously wrapped around the wounds.

His gaze drifted to the area around them. They were out of the trees, or at least at the forest’s edge with a stream, probably the one they’d found Bigfoot at flowing less than twenty feet away. Their backs were to the woods, but there was no cover on the other sides. It didn’t fit Dean’s requirement of a defensible position. Dean was betting on a rescue, which violated Dean’s number one rule of never counting on anyone else.

“We got no flashlights and no damn clue where we are,” Dean said. “We’re not gonna make it out in the dark.”

Sam hadn’t even realized it was getting dark. The large trees and the mountains brought the shade of night before it was really there. Of course, he was also struggling to keep his eyes open.

“Hey.” Dean snapped his fingers, pulling Sam back. “How about you try staying with me for a bit here?” Dean asked. He pulled out his lighter and tried to set his starter pile on fire. “First rule of shelter building.”

“Don’t get your ass stuck out in a place you need to build a shelter,” Sam mumbled.

Dean shrugged at that. “Well, yeah...that’s my rule, but what’s Dad’s?”

“I don’t care, Dean.”

“It was a dude.”

“What?” Sam pried his eyes open to glance at his brother, who was still holding his lighter in the pile of pine needles.

“In Reno. That thing I was playing bait for.”

Sam’s addled brain rolled around the words for a minute. “That succubus prostitute?”

When Dean gave an indignant nod, Sam sputtered a laugh despite himself.

“Turned out to be incubus. And, yeah, it’s freakin’ hilarious until some dude monster in a miniskirt whips it out on you. And damn, she was even hot. That kind of false advertising oughtta be illegal. Come on, bitch, burn,” Dean coaxed his barely smoldering pile. “Yatzee! Check me out.”

Sam scoffed at the tiny flicker of flames. “That’s pathetic and you used a lighter. What would Dad say about that?”

“You try setting water on fire.”

Dean hustled to fan and feed the precarious flames. Sam’s frown deepened as he saw that the simple actions left Dean winded. He was clutching his side again by the time the fire began to crackle.

“You really up to building a shelter?” Sam asked.

“I’m sure as hell not gonna just sit around.”

Even as Dean said the words, he lowered himself to the ground and leaned back against the tree, his shoulder settling tight against Sam’s. He let out a weary sigh, wrapping his arms around himself until Sam shivered again.

Sam’s eyes had fallen shut, but pulled open as he felt Dean lean away. His brother shrugged off his jacket to lay it over him. It blocked the cold of the evening breeze that rustled the brush around them, but left Dean only in his t-shirt.

“What’re you doing?” Sam asked. “You’re gonna get hypothermia.”

“The fire’s making me hot,” Dean said.

“Then why are you shaking?”

Dean abruptly stood so that Sam could no longer feel his shivering. Sam glared in disapproval, but couldn’t exactly get up to knock some sense into his brother.

Dean returned to collecting wood, but the limbs he was hauling were too big to burn in the fire. Sam's worry deepened as he watched Dean’s face contort in pain with the effort it took to drag the logs.

“Will you please just sit down?” Sam asked.

Dean shook his head. “It’s gonna rain.”

“How do you know?”

“Because we’re in a freakin’ rainforest. That and I just got smacked in the head with a giant raindrop.”

When Dean raised his arms to heave one of the logs into position against the tree, Sam saw the blood smeared on the inside of his arm. The left side of his shirt hung in tattered shreds and the skin beneath was coated in scarlet.

“Your side...”

“Is covered in your blood,” Dean cut off. “Now shut up and stop worrying.”

Sam knew Dean was lying, but it took all his energy to focus on just keeping his eyes open. He could only lie still as Dean constructed a debris hut around him. His brother positioned the logs to build the frame with the same ease he’d slapped together the stupid tent.

“So these camping trips with Dad?” Sam asked.

“Weren’t anything. Aren’t you tired?”

“I thought you wanted me to talk.”

“New rule. The least injured brother gets to tell the mortally injured one when to shut his cakehole.” Dean paused in his shelter building to really look at Sam. “You wanna talk? Fine. I gave you one with Reno. Your turn.”

“For what?”

“Jess.”

Sam groaned and shook his head. He was only barely able to follow Dean’s words and wasn’t sure what would leave his own mouth if he started rambling. While he was intent on staying quiet, Dean’s silently pleading eyes remained fixed on his until he broke.

Sam’s gaze shifted to become lost in the fire’s smoky flames. “She’s dead because of me.”

“I know.”

Dean’s words startled Sam back to the moment. He sat rigidly staring up at his brother, the ache in his heart growing deeper at the thought that Dean could see right through him.

Even Dean knew it had been his fault. Dean had warned him. He’d said he was putting Jessica in danger by not telling her the truth and he’d been right.

“I know you think so,” Dean continued a moment later. “You know...I still have nightmares about Mom.”

“What?”

Dean nodded. He stopped gathering branches and leaned against a tree as he also looked into the flames. “I know that if I’d snuck into your room that night...maybe if I’d asked for a glass of water. Hell, if I’d just wet the goddamn bed then maybe...”

“Dean, that’s ridiculous.”

Dean’s eyes snapped up. “Is it?”

“Of course it is. There’s no way you could’ve saved her.”

“What would you have done?” Dean asked. “If you’d been there with Jess and it came, what could you have done?”

“It would’ve taken me instead.”

“No, it wouldn’t!” Dean pushed off the tree, limping back towards Sam. “You’d just both be dead.”

“At least I could’ve tried. She needed me.”

“I need you!”

Sam stiffened at Dean’s shout, staring up at his brother. He couldn’t begin to find the words to reply, his addled brain unable to process the raw desperation in Dean’s voice.

“Sam, I need you.” Dean brought his hand up to rub the back of his neck. “I...man, I can’t do this alone and Dad...I can’t. I won’t.”

Sam pulled Dean’s jacket tighter around him as he stared up at the darkening sky. “I wanted you to come.”

Dean had gone back to distracting himself with the tree branches before Sam had spoken. He laid another on the roof he was making over Sam before he looked down at him through the opening that remained.

“Where?”

“To Stanford.”

Dean laughed. “Dude, you really did hit your head. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not exactly college material here.”

“You could be. You don’t even see it, do you?”

“See what?” Dean asked.

“You’re not just a hunter, Dean. I had to leave because, with Dad, that’s all I could be. It’s all he’s ever let you be and I hate it so much. You’re so worried about making him happy, you don’t even care what makes you happy. This isn’t all there is and he had no right—”

“You don't get it,” Dean interrupted. "You never could."

"Then explain it to me, Dean."

Dean put the last pieces on the roof of the shelter, more wood on the fire and then settled down in the doorway of the shelter. He still sat outside and stared out into the encroaching blackness as the light of the flames flickered over his face. He was close enough that Sam could almost make out his eyes.

“It was after Mom,” Dean said. “I mean not right after. We were okay for a little while until Dad quit his job, but it was before he’d met other hunters. We didn’t have any friends and we didn’t know who the enemy was. Dad couldn’t just get another job and hadn’t figured out how else to get money. We didn’t have anywhere to go.”

Sam remained silent. Straining to focus on Dean’s quiet words nearly made him forget the pain in his leg and pushed back the exhaustion trying to claim him.

“We stayed in the car, it was all we had, but it was still winter and it was so damn cold. You were just a baby and Dad was so scared.”

Sam swallowed. He lost himself in Dean’s distant gaze, but didn’t miss the fact that Dean’s story was focusing on everyone but himself. He’d rather talk about Dad’s fears and struggles than tell his own.

“Then we just drove. We left the cities and Kansas and just kept driving until we hit the forests. I don’t know where we were. I just remember pulling off some abandoned logging road at sunset and Dad saying it’ll be okay. No one will find us there. It was so dark. I just wanted...” Dean shook his head. “But we set up camp and we finally had a fire to keep you warm. We kept moving of course and...it was okay.”

Dean fell silent as he absently drew sigils in the dirt between them. Given how adamant Dean was against camping, Sam knew it had been far from okay.

“But?” Sam asked.

"But...we found out the monsters were everywhere. Black dog. We’d probably set up camp at an old crossroads and didn’t even know it. The thing tore into the tent while we were sleeping. It dragged Dad out.”

“God, Dean.”

“It doesn’t matter where you go, Sam. They’re out there. Everywhere. Running off to college. Running away from Dad. It doesn’t change that.” Dean rubbed his hand over his face before turning to look into the shelter at Sam. “We’re in this whether we like it or not. And, some days, you get lucky enough to shoot a Bigfoot.”

“I know you've been worried about me...and Dad,” Sam said. “Bigfoot sounded like your kind of thing. I just thought it would go better.”

“I don’t know. It was pretty awesome.” Dean forced a smile and patted his good leg. “I need to work on the fire. Try to get some sleep, Sammy.”

~~~

Dean shifted stiffly, moaning softly. A spot of filtered sunlight cut through the trees to warm his still-closed eyelids. It was the first he’d felt the sun since they’d gotten here and it was about damn time. Last night had been one of the longest nights of his life.

He’d never heard of shifters traveling in packs, but with their kind of luck, anything was possible. Every snap of a branch, hoot of an owl or groan from Sam had left him jumping at his own shadow. He still had the pistol in his grip, laid over his chest.

Nothing else was touching his brother.

That fire Sam had needed to stay warm hadn’t helped anything. He wasn’t sure what kind of freaks found the crackle of a fire and sting of smoke to be relaxing. It only grated his nerves. Fires were for burning corpses.

Besides, campfires were needy sons of bitches, especially when it was raining and the whole damn woods were full of nothing but rotting, wet wood. He’d had to build a shelter for the stupid campfire, but at least keeping the thing going had given him something to do. He’d let it go to embers around dawn only because he’d finally passed out.

Dean’s eyes blinked open and he turned his head to check on his sleeping brother. Sam was lying on a moss bed beneath the makeshift shelter. If he’d had to, Dean could’ve squeezed in with him. He’d told Sam he wasn’t going to because they’d already cuddled enough to last a lifetime in that damn tent.

In reality, he would’ve felt better being able to feel where Sam was, but his brother didn’t need anymore jostling. Dean had thought about crouching down inside for the worst of the rain, but it would’ve left him with too many blind spots in the blackest hours of the night.

He sat up, groaning as the movement tore at the gashes in his side. His gaze remained on Sam, watching the steady rise and fall of his brother’s chest. Sam's skin was pale where the sun caught it, but he was still alive. Now Dean just had to figure out how to get them the hell out of here.

First, he was going to have to get cleaned up before Sam came to. The tears in his side were caked with dried blood and clogged with dirt. In the light, Sam would be able to see the damage. His brother had nearly gotten his leg ripped up, but he’d see a few little cuts on Dean and throw a damn bitch fest.

Dean stood, or tried. As soon as he rested weight on is right ankle, pain shot up through his leg and he was back staring at the ground. He waited a moment for the wave of pain to pass, before adjusting his boot.

His toes were chilled since he’d ditched the muddy sock. He’d put the boot back on, but hadn’t been able to tie it with the swelling and the leather was still damp with muck that the fire hadn’t been enough to dry.

He stood again, this time care to keep the weight on his other leg, before shuffling to the stream. It was far enough off that his splashing shouldn’t bother Sam, but he could still keep his brother in sight.

Dean carefully surveyed the surrounding forest before he was convinced that he could momentarily let his guard down. He peeled off the damp, bloody t-shirt that clung to him, struggling to pull it past his bloody shoulder that he’d at least partially thrown out.

He kneeled down beside the stream to get the weight off his foot. He soaked the shirt in the frigid water, scrubbing out the blood that swirled pink in the clear stream before wiping the rung-out shirt over his side. He gasped at the icy cold trickle that dripped down his skin.

Dean leaned down to rinse the shirt out again when he heard the snapping of twigs and then voices in the near distance. His hand automatically hovered over his weapon, but the voices were clearly female and he was pretty damn sure they were human. The last thing he wanted to do was scare them off.

“I would’ve gone backpacking with you a long time ago if you’d told me this was the kind of view I could expect,” one of the girls said.

“Jenny! You are unbelievable. Stop staring.”

The second voice sounded vaguely familiar and let him pinpoint the location of the hikers. Several girls were walking down the trail on the other side of the creek, partially hidden in the bushes.

Dean carefully got back to his feet and waved towards them. “Hey, we could use some help over here!”

They stayed back until one of them nudged the other. “Heather, isn’t that the Fish and Wildlife guy?”

Dean’s exhausted mind finally caught on that they looked familiar because they were the girls from the general store. They also seemed satisfied that they recognized him because they moved out of the bushes to stand on the other side of the creek.

Mindy took one look at him and shrugged the large backpack from her shoulders. She hopped over the larger rocks to cross the creek, her eyes wide with panic.

“Oh my God,” she gasped. “Are you okay?”

“Who? Me?” Dean glanced behind him before following her gaze to his still bloody shoulder and the slashes that had again started to seep fresh blood down his side. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He rung out his shirt again before jerking the cold, soggy thing back on. “It’s my brother who needs help.”

“What happened?” she asked as she followed Dean over to the shelter.

“We got attacked by a...” He couldn’t remember if Sam had said there weren’t mountain lions or bears here, but whatever. “A bear last night. How far are we from...anything?”

“There's a campground ten miles back.”

Dean crouched down beside the shelter, reaching in to shake Sam’s shoulder. “Hey, Sammy? Charlie’s Angels are here, get your ass up.” He looked back at Mindy with a grimace as his brother slowly stirred. “Ten miles? Son of a bitch.”

“Can you even walk?” she asked him.

“Well, yeah.” She looked skeptical and Dean glared back at her. “I could run a damn marathon, but his leg's shot and cell phones are crap out here.”

“Dean?” Sam asked drowsily. “What’s going on?”

“We’re figuring how to get you out of here.” Dean eased Sam back down when he tried to sit. “Slow down, we’re still working on it. I just need you with me here.”

Dean pulled off the mass of fir branches and moss that he’d used to cover the shelter and fully exposed his brother. Sam shivered and Dean tucked his jacket tighter around his shoulders.

He glanced anxiously to Mindy and the other two girls who had come across the stream to join her. Heather took one look between them and was already dialing on her satellite phone.

“Jenny’s pre-med,” Mindy said, before nudging the other girl. “Maybe you could take a look at them? I’m going to go grab a blanket out of my pack.”

Jenny brushed her hair aside and smiled through the worry on her face. “Sure, I’d love to take a look,” she said with a wink.

Dean smirked back, letting the tentative relief ease his coiled muscles as he pushed aside the frame of the shelter and settled down beside his brother. He leaned back against the tree and pulled Sam tight against his chest to give him something softer and warmer than tree bark to lay on as Jenny started looking his leg over.

“I’m gonna be fine, Dean.”

“Yeah, I know.”

But he realized that Sam had said the words because he was holding his brother tight enough to suffocate him. Dean eased his grip and Sam clumsily reached over to grasp his arm.

“No,” Sam said as he turned his head to meet Dean’s worried gaze. “I mean everything's gonna be okay.”

Dean considered the words and the sincerity in Sam’s eyes. He nodded and clasped his hand over his brother’s. With his next breath, Dean released tension and uncertainty that he’d been holding for month, maybe years.

He didn’t remember they were being watched until Jenny sighed. “So much for my dreams of the world’s hottest double date.” She carefully adjusted Sam’s leg before a smile returned to her lips. “How do you two feel about threesomes?”

“Love ‘em,” Dean said with a grin as Mindy returned to tuck a blanket over both him and Sam.

Sam weakly jabbed Dean in the side the same moment Mindy nudged Jenny. As Mindy complained to her friend, Dean shrugged at his brother. It wasn’t like Sam could honestly be surprised he wanted to hit that.

“What? I do.”

Sam rolled his eyes. "Do you even listen to yourself?"

“Shut up.” Dean leaned his head back against the tree. “And Sam? Next time you suggest a camping trip, I’m gonna do us both a favor and shoot you.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] Into the Woods](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1875408) by [colls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/colls/pseuds/colls)




End file.
